What is the price of two sparrows–one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it (Matthew 10:29 New Living Translation).

As a kid, I was a wanton killer of non-human creatures [wanton meaning "lacking reason or provocation"].  I grew up in a town where if a critter had fins, fur, feathers or four or more feet, it was fair game.  I got my first BB-gun when I was about 10—a Daisy Red Ryder at that!  One of my later BB-guns had 110 notches on it before it wore out (the notches indicating the number of birds I had killed with it).

I even continued into adulthood with little regard especially for creatures conveniently labeled as “vermin.”  Often frustrated with an unsuccessful day hunting “game,” I would look for something else to kill: porcupines, chipmunks, red squirrels, or even blue jays (which were actually protected by law).  [See under "Articles" my story "Conversion of the Birdslayer," ]

I realize now that my behavior was at the very least unsportsmanlike.  Perhaps becoming a nature writer and a creation-care advocate was my Creator’s way of compelling me to make amends for my heartless deeds!  Isn’t it something how we can justify such behavior so easily by labeling our targets—which are His creatures—vermin, pests, dirty, trash—even game?  When we take a bead on any of His creatures with the intention of killing it, might it not be wise to remember that God’s eye is on that creature—and on us?  Should that not at least compel us to ask, “Do I have a God-blessed reason to take this creature’s life under His watchful care?”  Or at least, “Do I have a steward’s reason for killing this animal?”  There are biblically sound reasons for killing animals, but how often do we take the time to actually think about it that carefully.

I’m a different person now as a grandfather—my having been reminded of the fact that my heavenly Father notes the fall of even the most humble of birds.  I encourage my grandchildren to avoid doing what I did as a kid.  Our oldest granddaughter is a master bug catcher, and not yet having been stung, she boldly captures bees with a jar and lid—even the big bumble bees.  But I let her know how much I like it when she releases them and doesn’t let them die.  I tell the grandkids this: “God has made each creature with specific work to do—work that is vital to nature’s processes and balance.  We have our work and they have their work.  So unless they are harming you or threatening to harm you, let them do what God made them for.”

In his landmark book Pollution and the Death of Man: The Christian View of Ecology (Tyndale House: 1970, p.76), Francis Schaeffer spoke about the reason for such respect for God’s non-human creatures [He was writing this at the end of the sixties]:

The hippies are right in their desire to be close to nature, even walking in bare feet in order to feel it.  But they have no sufficient philosophy, and so it drifts into pantheism and soon becomes ugly.  But Christians, who should understand the creation principle, have a reason for respecting nature, and when they do, it results in benefits to man.  Let us be clear: it is not just a pragmatic attitude; there is a basis for it.  We treat it with respect because God made it.  When an orthodox, evangelical Christian mistreats or is insensible to nature, at that point he is more wrong than the hippie who has no real basis for his feeling for nature and yet senses that man and nature should have relationship beyond that of spoiler and spoiled.  You may, or may not, want to walk barefoot to feel close to nature, but as a Christian what relationship have you thought of and practiced toward nature as your fellow creature over the last ten years.

The emphasis in that quote was Schaeffer’s—and probably a good emphasis for followers of Christ the Creator today.

His Eye Is On the Sparrow

I sing because I’m happy
I sing because I’m free
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me